At this time, I feel the need to dedicate a post to my dear Grandfather Nestor Edmundo Velez. He passed away December 10, 2008. It was sort of a special date. It was the date of my own Father's birth and a day before my own. So for my Dad, I know it was a special thing. My grandfather died as my Dad was administering to him a blessing of calm. He'd suffered a stroke that paralyzed him from the waist down back when he was in his fifties. All of my own life, I've known him to be this quiet little old man in a wheel chair who liked to bake and garden with tools he designed for himself to do his work so as not to have to get out of his chair. More recently his bed sores had gotten worse, and so his death was no real surprise for our family. It was a blessing really. I know he's in a more comfortable place now where he can walk and perhaps even run. I had the privilege of writing his eulogy. A couple years back, in my choreographic ensemble for dance, our director asked us to work on a completely different kind of dance project. The assignment was to choose an ancestor, someone who was still living, of whom we could interview and really get to know better. I chose my Grandfather. My Teto. It's what my cousin called him as a child. We later had to type out the interview and use pieces of it as monologue throughout our choreography. It was definitely different from anything I'd ever done in the past. But of all the dance performances I've ever participated in, whether dancing or choreographing, this was the most important project I'd ever done. I learned more from my Teto in one hour than I'd ever learned in the entire lifetime that I'd known him. He was no longer just a handicapped baker and a gardener to me. He became real. He became human. A flight mechanic and a paratrooper for the Peruvian air force. A loving husband who made his fair share of mistakes. A father who struggled to bring home the bread. Through all the experiences he shared with me about his life, I learned that day what it truly means to "
turn the hearts of the children to their fathers." I learned what it truly means to do Family History. Family History isn't just about tracing and recording names as far back as possible. Though that is important, it's also about capturing stories and preserving them in time. And for what? As we strive hard to tame our own flesh, we are doomed to repeat history if we don't learn to turn our hearts. Keeping this blog now, is a modern day way of keeping my thoughts alive and sharing with others how I feel and how I grow as a daughter of God. So this moment is for my Teto. I'm so grateful for the gospel and the knowledge that I will see my Grandfather again someday. Tis but a brief parting. I love you Tetito. Here are some pictures of the pallbearers carrying my Teto's body to his final resting place and the beautiful casket his mortal body will lay in. Notice the 9th pallbearer in the back. That's my cousin's little boy Leighton filling in for the pallbearer who couldn't make it. It brought many smiles to the day. Below is a painting of my Grandfather in his younger days next to his wife. My Nona. A dignified couple they are. Delicate yet strong. And if I may be so bold, my Grandfather was a good-looking man.
At this time, I feel the need to dedicate a post to my dear Grandfather Nestor Edmundo Velez. He passed away December 10, 2008. It was sort of a special date. It was the date of my own Father's birth and a day before my own. So for my Dad, I know it was a special thing. My grandfather died as my Dad was administering to him a blessing of calm. He'd suffered a stroke that paralyzed him from the waist down back when he was in his fifties. All of my own life, I've known him to be this quiet little old man in a wheel chair who liked to bake and garden with tools he designed for himself to do his work so as not to have to get out of his chair. More recently his bed sores had gotten worse, and so his death was no real surprise for our family. It was a blessing really. I know he's in a more comfortable place now where he can walk and perhaps even run. I had the privilege of writing his eulogy. A couple years back, in my choreographic ensemble for dance, our director asked us to work on a completely different kind of dance project. The assignment was to choose an ancestor, someone who was still living, of whom we could interview and really get to know better. I chose my Grandfather. My Teto. It's what my cousin called him as a child. We later had to type out the interview and use pieces of it as monologue throughout our choreography. It was definitely different from anything I'd ever done in the past. But of all the dance performances I've ever participated in, whether dancing or choreographing, this was the most important project I'd ever done. I learned more from my Teto in one hour than I'd ever learned in the entire lifetime that I'd known him. He was no longer just a handicapped baker and a gardener to me. He became real. He became human. A flight mechanic and a paratrooper for the Peruvian air force. A loving husband who made his fair share of mistakes. A father who struggled to bring home the bread. Through all the experiences he shared with me about his life, I learned that day what it truly means to "turn the hearts of the children to their fathers." I learned what it truly means to do Family History. Family History isn't just about tracing and recording names as far back as possible. Though that is important, it's also about capturing stories and preserving them in time. And for what? As we strive hard to tame our own flesh, we are doomed to repeat history if we don't learn to turn our hearts. Keeping this blog now, is a modern day way of keeping my thoughts alive and sharing with others how I feel and how I grow as a daughter of God. So this moment is for my Teto. I'm so grateful for the gospel and the knowledge that I will see my Grandfather again someday. Tis but a brief parting. I love you Tetito. Here are some pictures of the pallbearers carrying my Teto's body to his final resting place and the beautiful casket his mortal body will lay in. Notice the 9th pallbearer in the back. That's my cousin's little boy Leighton filling in for the pallbearer who couldn't make it. It brought many smiles to the day. Below is a painting of my Grandfather in his younger days next to his wife. My Nona. A dignified couple they are. Delicate yet strong. And if I may be so bold, my Grandfather was a good-looking man. 
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